Ray Nagin is that dude. Son keeps it very real and I'm loving his insight. F the CBC and whomever else with their idle talk. He's down there in his city doing what he can and for that I applaud his efforts to get some support for his city.
I told him we had an incredible crisis here and that his flying over in Air Force One does not do it justice.
Get every doggone Greyhound bus line in the country and get their asses moving to New Orleans."
You know, I'm not one of those drug addicts. I am thinking very clearly.
And I don't know whose problem it is. I don't know whether it's the governor's problem. I don't know whether it's the president's problem, but somebody needs to get their ass on a plane and sit down, the two of them, and figure this out right now.
I don't want to see anybody do anymore goddamn press conferences. Put a moratorium on press conferences. Don't do another press conference until the resources are in this city. And then come down to this city and stand with us when there are military trucks and troops that we can't even count.
audio clip
Now that's real talk.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Friday, September 02, 2005
Bucktown's the state of mind that I'm trapped in
Situations...got me thinking about my life seriously
Keep it real continuously
Before I slip into blackness I prepare for combat
Protect my dome cause that's where my home's at
Still thinking about Woodside from last weekend. I'm not into telling grown men what to do, but damn son....we need an intervention up in this muthafuqa. I'll make suggestions, but the onus is on you to step your shT up and come correct. Feel me? It's not like it's a life consumed with crime, but there's much room for improvement. I pray for the welfare of all (thousands) of my family, but as evidenced with 'Trina, there's mucho shit-o beyond my control-o. So I'll continue being the 'college' cat with my 'punk-ass pieces of paper' and keep pushing for a better tomorrow for me, those closest to me, and my community at large. It's the least I can contribute.
But I wrekonize that it ain't easy
So I organize with my P.N.C.
From day break to dusk dawn
I stand strong on my own two
Give praises to Jah before manuevering thru
I commented on someone's blog recently that I was glad to have lived this far beyond the age of 21. Now, I wasn't in no bang-bang extra rowdy shT coming up, but EBT cards and good guidance can both humble and propel you into a whole new strata of thinking. I remember one neighboring parent that used to crack jokes about my good grades. She was cool - a bit strung-out-ish - but still decent peoples overall. But it was as if the whole fam was in the game and her sons were destined for that life. I hope the younger one did alright for himself. Max, who was my age, got caught up. Before I left for college, I snuck off and tried to find him in the BX to no avail. I found out he had gotten locked up (@ 17) somehwere in PA. I haven't tried to locate him since. We were from the same and different worlds. It's odd how people can grow up on the same block and go on to have such divergent lives. I look at the poverty in New Orleans and see pieces of my past; the homes of family members and friends, pissy elevators, and other ceremonial attributes of the concrete jungle's abject reality. It pains me to not be able to instantly find and catch up with someone from my past. Some people prefer it that way. Maybe I'm too much a fan of nostalgia, hence my love for the real hip-hop music. But I like new shT too...as long as it's the good new shT....not that wack new shT.
In days of our lives, we try to make ends meet
to search for tommorrow got us walkin' the streets
Yo I'm not sweatin' sleep, not really stressin' beef
I'm just tryin' to live, tryin' to eat
tryin' to stay strong, tryin' not to fall
tryin' to live to see my unborn get tall
cause the streets of New York ain't just a walk in the park
you can get your life got in the day or the dark.
I went to two NYHA projects last weekend. I'm proud of the strides that I have made thus far, but there are a lot of bases still left to cover. I made a promise to get a doctorate...and as much as I loathe school...I need to go ahead and cop that shT no matter the obstacles. But with leaps come baby steps, I've doing so-so ok at reading more. I've tried keeping in touch with a few more people than usual. And there are some former friendships that I could try to broker new ground just for the hell of it. And as calm and collective as I claim to be, my soul still stirs. I like to be relaxed, but little shT can just get you all riled up. How can appear interested in your words if I am consumed with a mind running at the speed of sound in 17 directions? Hell, maybe I need an intervention. Now wouldn't that be some ironic shT?!
Footnotes:
all quotes by Tek & Steele of Smif-N-Wessun (and if you didn't know that...damn, yo)
NYHA = New York Housing Authority
Keep it real continuously
Before I slip into blackness I prepare for combat
Protect my dome cause that's where my home's at
Still thinking about Woodside from last weekend. I'm not into telling grown men what to do, but damn son....we need an intervention up in this muthafuqa. I'll make suggestions, but the onus is on you to step your shT up and come correct. Feel me? It's not like it's a life consumed with crime, but there's much room for improvement. I pray for the welfare of all (thousands) of my family, but as evidenced with 'Trina, there's mucho shit-o beyond my control-o. So I'll continue being the 'college' cat with my 'punk-ass pieces of paper' and keep pushing for a better tomorrow for me, those closest to me, and my community at large. It's the least I can contribute.
But I wrekonize that it ain't easy
So I organize with my P.N.C.
From day break to dusk dawn
I stand strong on my own two
Give praises to Jah before manuevering thru
I commented on someone's blog recently that I was glad to have lived this far beyond the age of 21. Now, I wasn't in no bang-bang extra rowdy shT coming up, but EBT cards and good guidance can both humble and propel you into a whole new strata of thinking. I remember one neighboring parent that used to crack jokes about my good grades. She was cool - a bit strung-out-ish - but still decent peoples overall. But it was as if the whole fam was in the game and her sons were destined for that life. I hope the younger one did alright for himself. Max, who was my age, got caught up. Before I left for college, I snuck off and tried to find him in the BX to no avail. I found out he had gotten locked up (@ 17) somehwere in PA. I haven't tried to locate him since. We were from the same and different worlds. It's odd how people can grow up on the same block and go on to have such divergent lives. I look at the poverty in New Orleans and see pieces of my past; the homes of family members and friends, pissy elevators, and other ceremonial attributes of the concrete jungle's abject reality. It pains me to not be able to instantly find and catch up with someone from my past. Some people prefer it that way. Maybe I'm too much a fan of nostalgia, hence my love for the real hip-hop music. But I like new shT too...as long as it's the good new shT....not that wack new shT.
In days of our lives, we try to make ends meet
to search for tommorrow got us walkin' the streets
Yo I'm not sweatin' sleep, not really stressin' beef
I'm just tryin' to live, tryin' to eat
tryin' to stay strong, tryin' not to fall
tryin' to live to see my unborn get tall
cause the streets of New York ain't just a walk in the park
you can get your life got in the day or the dark.
I went to two NYHA projects last weekend. I'm proud of the strides that I have made thus far, but there are a lot of bases still left to cover. I made a promise to get a doctorate...and as much as I loathe school...I need to go ahead and cop that shT no matter the obstacles. But with leaps come baby steps, I've doing so-so ok at reading more. I've tried keeping in touch with a few more people than usual. And there are some former friendships that I could try to broker new ground just for the hell of it. And as calm and collective as I claim to be, my soul still stirs. I like to be relaxed, but little shT can just get you all riled up. How can appear interested in your words if I am consumed with a mind running at the speed of sound in 17 directions? Hell, maybe I need an intervention. Now wouldn't that be some ironic shT?!
Footnotes:
all quotes by Tek & Steele of Smif-N-Wessun (and if you didn't know that...damn, yo)
NYHA = New York Housing Authority
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Mama pray. Mama cray. But don't cry, ma, I've come too far.
And I refuse to die young.
-Li'l Fame of M.O.P.
No hip-hop analogies today aside from the title. Just completely consumed mentally by the hurricane, work, and the fidgety midget who sleeps like he has epilepsy and a penchant for fartig in his sleep. Geesh. It took damn near 2 hours to put him to sleep tonight and then once he's out, this dude starts kicking me every 10 minutes...on the dot! WTF?!
There are all kinds of sites that have popped up in the last 72 hours with very noble intentions of spreading information in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. I was floored today looking at a lot of images and reading articles of the devastation. I was particularly intrigued by the initial media sensationalism and the insight by two bloggers in particular on the juxtaposition of looting and finding and playing the race cards. And now I am even more attentive upon reading of the effort to right the wrong and the actual photographer's comments. It doesn't make it all good, but that response was seemingly quicker than the federal government's response and I can see how his comments could be genuine. But maybe I'm just naive. ohw ell...fuq it.
I saw a dope satellite map of all of New Orleans that lets user zoom in on specific neighborhoods to assess flood damage levels. Looking for a way to help? One of the most interesting reads was from this ham radio operator's blog, while I didn't even get to tackle the 2002 article on why this apocalyptic disaster was bound to happen. There's also a another, more recent article as well. I think I'm going to go ahead and try to support a fellow blogger in any way that I can. If anyone happens to read this, please feel free to lend your support as well. Here is some information on the Williams Family Hurricane Relief Fund and additional blog links and commentary from others trying to do what they can.
-Li'l Fame of M.O.P.
No hip-hop analogies today aside from the title. Just completely consumed mentally by the hurricane, work, and the fidgety midget who sleeps like he has epilepsy and a penchant for fartig in his sleep. Geesh. It took damn near 2 hours to put him to sleep tonight and then once he's out, this dude starts kicking me every 10 minutes...on the dot! WTF?!
There are all kinds of sites that have popped up in the last 72 hours with very noble intentions of spreading information in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. I was floored today looking at a lot of images and reading articles of the devastation. I was particularly intrigued by the initial media sensationalism and the insight by two bloggers in particular on the juxtaposition of looting and finding and playing the race cards. And now I am even more attentive upon reading of the effort to right the wrong and the actual photographer's comments. It doesn't make it all good, but that response was seemingly quicker than the federal government's response and I can see how his comments could be genuine. But maybe I'm just naive. ohw ell...fuq it.
I saw a dope satellite map of all of New Orleans that lets user zoom in on specific neighborhoods to assess flood damage levels. Looking for a way to help? One of the most interesting reads was from this ham radio operator's blog, while I didn't even get to tackle the 2002 article on why this apocalyptic disaster was bound to happen. There's also a another, more recent article as well. I think I'm going to go ahead and try to support a fellow blogger in any way that I can. If anyone happens to read this, please feel free to lend your support as well. Here is some information on the Williams Family Hurricane Relief Fund and additional blog links and commentary from others trying to do what they can.
Your firearms are too short to box with God
Mad sht on the brain keeps pushing recaps back. Much props to Much Music in Canada for calling fake mufuqas out.Jim Jones' retort was pur bullshT and we all know it. It ain't got sht to do with integrity - maybe a hint of loyalty - but I'm sure we all can see through the smoke screen. Anyways, reading that dumb sht took me back to a conversation this evening with a buddy of mine going through some serious drama with his fam. Let's just suffice it to say that I feel his pain and I hope he does hit me back to connect and get some respite and his mind off the stress.
The whole day reminds me of a tightrope. Work is mad busy and can barley find time to handle simple tasks because I have become so inundated with all sorts of busy work to do that it's starting to get overwhelming, and DO NOT like being overwhelmed; I despise it vehemently. But anyways, the tightrope analogy was also a reference to the street scholar moniker I picked up a few years back. As much as I'd like to cling to the streets, the streets to me still ain't as street as street can be, because I have always shunned the low-life thuggery. I can understand the perspective, but don't put me in the middle of some drama becuase I will fuq you up afterwards. So I guess this a kind of a make-up rant for what the conversation I had in Woodside projects this past weekend and also a lament for other brothers out there just trying to live who don't necessarily have any aspirations whatsoever to be involved in the dumb shT, but still have to walk a fine line of balancing conflicting demands with their own dreams and goals. This post's title comes from the Black Star track, Thieves in the Night. Some real talk right there, potna. Anyways, I also had a simultaneous flashback on my adolescence and a few disconcerting incidents that played minor roles in helping shape me into the man that I am and the one that I aspire to become. I have my kinks, dents, quirks, and good qualities as well that make me a complete package, but I'm still a work in progress and I hope to be able to lend my help to any other of peoples' in progress as well. Word...like a mutha.
The whole day reminds me of a tightrope. Work is mad busy and can barley find time to handle simple tasks because I have become so inundated with all sorts of busy work to do that it's starting to get overwhelming, and DO NOT like being overwhelmed; I despise it vehemently. But anyways, the tightrope analogy was also a reference to the street scholar moniker I picked up a few years back. As much as I'd like to cling to the streets, the streets to me still ain't as street as street can be, because I have always shunned the low-life thuggery. I can understand the perspective, but don't put me in the middle of some drama becuase I will fuq you up afterwards. So I guess this a kind of a make-up rant for what the conversation I had in Woodside projects this past weekend and also a lament for other brothers out there just trying to live who don't necessarily have any aspirations whatsoever to be involved in the dumb shT, but still have to walk a fine line of balancing conflicting demands with their own dreams and goals. This post's title comes from the Black Star track, Thieves in the Night. Some real talk right there, potna. Anyways, I also had a simultaneous flashback on my adolescence and a few disconcerting incidents that played minor roles in helping shape me into the man that I am and the one that I aspire to become. I have my kinks, dents, quirks, and good qualities as well that make me a complete package, but I'm still a work in progress and I hope to be able to lend my help to any other of peoples' in progress as well. Word...like a mutha.
Reflection rarely seen across the surface of the lookin glass
Walkin the street, wonderin who they be lookin past
Lookin gassed with them imported designer shades on
Stars shine bright, but the light -- rarely stays on
Same song, just remixed, different arrangement
Put you on a yacht but they won't call it a slaveship
Strangeness, you don't control this, you barely hold this
Screamin brand new, when they just sanitized the old shit
Suppose it's, just another clever Jedi mind trick
That they been runnin across stars through all the time with
I find it's distressin, there's never no in-between
We either niggaz or Kings
We either bitches or Queens
The deadly ritual seems immersed, in the perverse
Full of short attention spans, short tempers, and short skirts
Long barrel automatics released in short bursts
The length of black life is treated with short worth
Get yours first, them other niggaz secondary
That type of illin that be fillin up the cemetary
This life is temporary but the soul is eternal
Separate the real from the lie, let me learn you
Not strong, only aggressive, cause the power ain't directed
That's why, we are subjected to the will of the oppressive
Not free, we only licensed
Not live, we just excitin
Cause the captors.. own the masters.. to what we writin
Not compassionate, only polite, we well trained
Our sincerity's rehearsed in stage, it's just a game
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